


You Hit My Heart on the Mark

by JackyJango



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Damen is a sweetheart!, Inspired by Princess Diaries, M/M, Nicaise is the best friend, Princess Diaries- The Royal Engagement AU, The Archery Scene, so is Laurent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: 'Oh, don't tell me that you like him now.’ Nicaise’s face looks unpropitious, and his voice rises over two registers.It's not that Laurent likes Damen-- not that he will agree to it even if he does-- it's just that Laurent simply can't stop thinking of the man. Can't stop thinking about the twinkle in his eyes when he laughs, the depth of his rumbling voice, the messiness of his silky hair, and how it falls over his forehead, how Laurent wants twist his fingers in the strands and pull...'I don't like him,’ Laurent mutters irritably; albeit unconvincingly. He analyses the angle of the arrow and narrows his eye on the yellow circle at the centre of the board.------Also known as the Princess Diaries- The Royal Engagement AU one person asked for!





	You Hit My Heart on the Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://bocje-ce-ustu.tumblr.com/post/166387017712/concept-the-suitor-slideshow-scene-in-the) post by the awesome [bocje-ce-ustu](http://bocje-ce-ustu.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> I BEG you guys to go read the sequel (of sorts) for this fic [here](http://bocje-ce-ustu.tumblr.com/post/166399265063/bocje-ce-ustu-concept-the-suitor-slideshow-scene), written by the amazing [bocje-ce-ustu!](http://bocje-ce-ustu.tumblr.com/)  
> It's the suitor slideshow scene from the movie and it's AWESOME!!!
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr [here](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com/post/166681326658/bocje-ce-ustu-jackyjango-bocje-ce-ustu). Any diffrences found between the two versions can be attributed to my atrocious grammar.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Cheers!

          'I don't trust him.’

Laurent sighs, and releases the bend of his right elbow. The action relieves the tension on the string. To think that he could practice archery on a warm and sunny October day in the presence of his best friend was certainly a mistake.

'Nobody can be  _ that  _ good. It's not humanly possible!’ Nicaise says with so fierce a determination that it could bring dark omens over fair skies.

'Yes, well, thank you for your opinion, Nicaise.’

'I know I’ve been on about this before. But hear me out, will you? No scandals, no illegal trades, no fishy affairs. Nothing! You know that if there's nothing-’

'-there’s definitely something. Yes, I know. Again, thank you for your insight.’ Laurent rectifies his stance, and stretches his left arm to position the bow in-line with the board. 

Maybe Laurent would have been inclined to believe Nicaise if hadn’t met Damen in person. He had, after all, wasted all their encounters trying to find any trace of malice in the man. Much to his chagrin, he had failed miserably in that endeavour. For all the contours and angles Damen’s face possesses, it’s open like a well read book. There are no motives behind his genuine smiles, or ill will in his warm eyes. Though Laurent is factually bound to agree with his best friend, a fierce voice inside his head tells him otherwise. 

His treacherous face must have showcased his thoughts, because Nicaise opens his mouth again, 'Oh, don't tell me that you like him now.’ Nicaise’s face looks unpropitious, and his voice rises over two registers.

It's not that Laurent  _ likes _ Damen-- not that he will agree to it even if he does-- it's just that Laurent simply can't stop thinking of the man. Can't stop thinking about the twinkle in his eyes when he laughs, the depth of his rumbling voice, the messiness of his silky hair, and how it falls over his forehead, how Laurent wants twist his fingers in the strands and pull...

'I don't  _ like _ him,’ Laurent mutters irritably; albeit unconvincingly. He analyses the angle of the arrow and narrows his eye on the yellow circle at the centre of the board. 

‘Oh my God, you do!’ Nicaise almost spits the words, shifting from his slouch to sit precariously on the edge of the garden chair. 

‘Oh for -’ Laurent bites down on a curse, for he’s sure that both of his assistants for the day--  who are deliberately not facing him-- are faithful spies of his brother.

He’s only mulling over how much of their banter would become his brother’s knowledge when he hears Nicaise mutter: ‘Speak of the Devil!’

The sound of crunching leaves and a deep and increasingly familiar voice pulls Laurent’s attention: ‘It’s a lovely day for practice.’  

Butterflies begin to flutter inside Laurent’s stomach haphazardly, and the rhythmic beat of his heart wavers. He stops his head from whipping to its right to lay eyes upon the source of the voice.

To his left, he can see Nicaise’s twisted face ready to spit fire. 

‘A fine day, indeed,’ Laurent finally speaks out when he’s sure that his face doesn’t bear his inner excitement, and turns to face Damen. It really isn’t fair how the man’s smile is brighter and warmer than the morning sun. Damen dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, the thin fabric of the shirt hugging his huge biceps and framing his wide chest and shoulders. His messy curls, highlighted golden by the sun, halos around his head. 

And because Laurent is nothing if not difficult, he promptly pretends to ignore Damen’s presence and turns back to aim his arrow at the board; albeit clumsily. 

‘That’s not… nevermind,’ he hears Damen say from a few paces behind him.

Laurent swivels his head with the grace and dignity that is expected of him, and hooks an eyebrow in question. 

Damen smiles sheepishly, the crooked slant of his lips flashing a white row of teeth. A dimple blooms on his left cheek. Laurent isn’t the one to associate the word ‘adorable’ with anything; living or otherwise. But somehow, his mind has persuaded him that, at the moment, the only word he can use to describe Damen is, in fact, adorable.

‘Your stance and the angle of the arm… it’s a little off. Do you mind if I-’ Damen ducks his head from his unfair height and points to the bow and arrow in question. The action causes the gawky curls to tumble into his eyes. 

‘No! Thank you. Laurent is-’ Nicaise begins to say. Of course, trust Nicaise to scare Damen away with his prickly words.  _ That  _ is not the desired course of events. Turning his left hand a little and lowering his right, Laurent releases the arrow held between his fingers. At a blinding speed, the head whistles through the breeze and sticks itself into the gaudy leg of Nicaise’s chair. Nicaise yelps from the spot and hops in place. At least, the little episode cuts him from completing the rest of his sentence. 

His best friend stomps off from the scene spewing curses at Laurent. But that’s nothing a bowl of ice cream and a night of musicals can't fix. 

Schooling his features to show nonchalance, Laurent turns to a dumbstruck Damen, and voices out airily: ‘I suppose I could use some guidance.’

The words seem to spur Damen into action, for he crosses the distance between them in three steps, and comes to stand by Laurent’s side. 

‘Your footing has to be a little wider,’ Damen points at Laurent's feet, ‘That way, you get a wide base for stability.’ This, of course, is common knowledge to Laurent, but he feigns interest and widens his footing on the bed of grass.

‘Stretch your bow hand a little further, but keep your shoulder blades in line,’ Damen instructs. Though Laurent does as he’s told, he deliberately outstretches his left hand further than the line of his body. He smiles inwardly when the action has the desired effect. Damen presses one big palm on the valley of his shoulder blades, and wraps another around Laurent’s opposite arm, pulling it inward. ‘Like this,’ he says, surrounding Laurent completely. 

Deciding that the bark of a nearby tree would be the most efficient target, Laurent releases the arrow, which flies past the board and sticks to the bark with a quivering tail. Laurent chooses a tall shrub as his next target, and a garden bench as the following. Laurent smiles inwardly as with each successive shot, Damen worms further into his personal space, so much so that Damen's huge hands begin to rove mindlessly over his hips, the line of his back and down his arms, rectifying Laurent's posture and guiding his movements. Laurent can feel the heat of Damme's touches like a brand through his shirt and slacks. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. 

He doesn’t know how long he has been standing there, basking in Damen’s attention, and aiming his arrow at anything and everything but the target board. His assistants are missing from their spots on either side of the practice area; a fact that Laurent is he’s glad for. 

Damen is extremely patient with him. The fact that he’s completely engrossed in analysing Laurent’s stance, the angle of the shot in coordination with the direction of the wind throws light on the dedication and discipline of the man. It’s admirable, Laurent decides despite himself.

The next shot of the arrow cuts through the glass of a garden lamp, and before Laurent even realises it, Damen has disentangled himself from his side. 

‘You’re thinking too much,’ Damen declares placing both his hands on his hips. It’s not exasperation as much as it is merely an observation.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re thinking too much,’ Damen repeats, pointing to the now lowered bow in Laurent's hand. ‘You’re analysing too much. Overthinking it. Laurent, you’re a natural at this. I can see it in the way you move. Just.... stop thinking so much, and listen to the rhythm of your muscles.’

‘I…’ Laurent doesn’t have a reply in the face of Damen’s unfazed faith in him. He feels culpable for veiling the fact that he’s, in fact, a master-class archer from Damen and benefiting from his ignorance and intentions.

His dilemma must have shown on face because Damen cracks a smile. The sight, levitates some of Laurent’s guilt.

‘Let’s try it again.’ Damen tucks himself behind Laurent more fully this time. He slides one hand down the length of Laurent’s left, the heat of the contact and the drag of Damen’s palm drugging his senses. Damen’s other hand comes to clutch his hip. Laurent gasps as the force of the action puts him snug with Damen, the length of his back lining Damen’s chest and hips. It’s like being wrapped in a thick blanket on a cold day, warm and safe. He snuggles back further, until Damen’s head dodges his and comes to rest on his right shoulder. This close, Laurent can feel Damen’s breath sifting through his hair and caressing his cheek.

Encasing him in a solid wall of heat, Damen whispers into his ear, ‘Breath.’ The hot air cascades down the curve of Laurent's aw and the skin of his throat, alerting every follicle in its wake. Obeying, Laurent closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the rich musk of Damen’s scent. Damen slides his hands over his and adjusts his elbows. 

‘Don’t think. Just let go.’ with that, Laurent releases the tail of the arrow and hears it whirling the short distance to the board and stick in it with a definitive  _ tuck _ .

‘Bullseye,’ Damen breathes into his ear before Laurent opens his eyes.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D  
> Also, [JackyJango](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
